


Ghostbound Spirit

by beepbeepineedsleep, chamomileteatime



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Cassidy is the Crying Child, Eggs Benedict is Michael Afton, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I don't give a shit about canon, M/M, Michael Afton Needs a Hug, Michael Afton is all Nightguards, Michael Afton-Centric, Time Travel Fix-It, but neither does Scott
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29418354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beepbeepineedsleep/pseuds/beepbeepineedsleep, https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamomileteatime/pseuds/chamomileteatime
Summary: And so Michael pulled back the covers and noticed two more things. The first was that his scars were gone, the second was that he was tiny. Had he ever been this small? Frightened and confused, he leapt out of bed, and stumbled over his too-short legs over to the vanity across from the bed. Upon looking in the mirror, he saw in an instant what the children had meant by “sending him back.” The face in the mirror was his own, but one from a time long past.FNaF Time Travel Fix-It AU, Set after Pizzeria Simulator. Michael Afton-Centric.
Relationships: Elizabeth Afton & Michael Afton, Michael Afton & Ennard, Michael Afton & Henry Emily, Michael Afton & William Afton | Dave Miller, William Afton | Dave Miller/Henry Emily
Comments: 23
Kudos: 73





	1. Beginnings Coming After Ends

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been bouncing around in my head for a long while, and I finally got my shit together to write it down. I need some fucking therapy, or maybe just a good nap.

Compared to the heat of that final fire, the void was freezing. Or perhaps, it was just freezing and that was that. Michael wasn’t sure how long he had been walking aimlessly, lost to time and those he loved. Perhaps this was all that was left for him, his own personal Hell, alone with only the memories of what he had done. It was certainly all he deserved.

…

  
He had faded out again. He was certainly doing that a lot lately. Perhaps it was what was left of his conscious finally sputtering out, or perhaps he was finally going insane. Well, he was his father’s double in every other way, it would be no surprise to anyone if he were to take after him in that respect too. Not that there was anyone here to see him anymore. No, it was just Michael, here all alone, with only his steadily darkening thoughts to keep him company.

…

…

But was he really alone? Because, there in the darkness, he could swear he saw a figure. That had happened many times before, where Michael would see a figure, but then it would fade out before he could build up the energy to speak to them.

  
But this time felt different. And so, for the first time in a long while, Michael built up all his strength, and attempted to call out to the figure. All that came out was a whimper.

  
“So you do recognize me then? That’s good, I was almost afraid that it had been too long.”

  
“Of course,” Michael choked out a laugh, which instead came out as a sob. “What terrible sort of big brother would I be to forget you?”

  
“The type to kill me.” Another sob. Because, how could he forget? The lights, the singing, the _blood_.

  
“Please Cass, you know I didn’t—” But what could he say? You know I didn’t mean to kill you? No because the fact of the matter is that he did, and that made him a terrible person—

  
“Come now, Mikey, you know I didn’t come here to torment you.” So this wasn’t Hell then? That was good, but it still didn’t answer where he was, considering there was no way he was going to Heaven. Purgatory, perhaps. Maybe some higher being had decided that something within him deserved redemption.

  
“I suppose that is accurate, this is a purgatory of a sort, and this is you receiving a second chance, of a sort.”

  
“So, there is a little bit of light within me, then.” Michael laughed darkly.

  
“Perhaps, that is what this second chance is all about, a chance for you to set things right, a chance for all of us to see if you really deserve the peace you are seeking.” All around him, eyes, bodies, tears. Was that Elizabeth? And Charlie? Oh god...

  
“You know it was your fault, right? You were that final push, the one that made Daddy angry.” Oh, poor Lizzy, stuck all alone in that horrible lab for so long. But Michael was well aware of his crimes, his one great unforgivable sin. It may have been an accident, but by God, it was all his fault. His father may have been a murderer, but he was the one to draw out the first drop of blood. He was the real murderer.

  
“Now, now Michael, there’s no time for that! We’re here to send you back, and once we do, none of that will matter anymore!” Charlie was hanging over him now, her tiny hands on his shoulders, her head hanging upside down in front of him.

  
“Send me… back?”

  
“Of course, silly!” A growing numbness overtook his body, and as Michael looked down, he saw his own body begin to fade out, as he was overtaken by a sudden sense of fatigue.

  
“And I sent a friend with you, so get along!”

  
“Do you think he heard us?”

  
“Well, I guess it can just be a surprise then!”

* * *

The first thing Michael noticed was that he was warm. The second was that it was dark. But not in the way the eternal void had been, the way the night sky had been. He had forgotten what the night sky had looked like, those last few days, staring at a computer screen, fending off the tortured ghosts of those he loved. He was tucked into bed. That too was new, he couldn’t remember the last time he had had a good night’s rest in a bed, trading them out for office chairs and nightmares.

  
Well, the first order of business was getting up and assessing the situation. Cass had mentioned that they were “sending him back”, but he still wasn’t quite sure what that entailed, and it would be better to figure out sooner rather than later.

  
And so Michael pulled back the covers and noticed two more things. The first was that his scars were gone, the second was that he was _tiny_. Had he ever been this small? Frightened and confused, he leapt out of bed, and stumbled over his too-short legs over to the vanity across from the bed. Upon looking in the mirror, he saw in an instant what the children had meant by “sending him back.” The face in the mirror was his own, but one from a time long past.

  
He was back in time.


	2. Ghosts Now Living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now Starring: Michael's rambling internal monologues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up splitting this chapter in half because it was just getting too long. I at least want to keep the first few chapters a bit shorter. Hopefully that means that the next chapter will be done soon.

Michael stared at the mirror for a long time. Staring into his eyes, the one thing that had never changed, no matter how much he grew up, no matter if he was living or dead. Those cursed eyes, the ones that made him look too much like his father. Perhaps in this situation they were a blessing, considering that Michael felt that, if he were to look at anything else, he may have a mental breakdown then and there. But he couldn’t help himself, and so he pulled up the bottom hem of his nightshirt, tracing with his eyes the paths that the scars used to take, scares now gone, possibly—  _ hopefully _ — forever. Did he even remember,  _ truly _ remember what it was like to be alive? If what he was before… well… could even be described that. Did he remember how to swallow food? Would his stomach even digest it, or would it spit it all back up in rebellion to its cruel master? Did he remember what it was like to be touched? With real skin, instead of that bruised monstrosity that crinkled and tore, that was neither hot nor cold but room temperature, but that was somehow so much worse, because it was like he wasn’t even really there— 

A noise. He heard a noise? It sounded like a child crying, a real child, not just a cheap sound played on a speaker in a horror attraction. Why was there a baby? Where— Right, sent back, okay. Based on how old it was, that sound would have to be… _Cassidy…_

Michael could feel himself moving, vaguely. As he attempted to toddle his way to Cassidy’s nursery, his mind was in a very different place. There was a difference between knowing Cass was alive, and _knowing Cass was alive_. His baby brother was _alive_. 

His unbalanced feet succeeded in carrying to where he needed to be. He pushed open the door to Cassie’s room. His baby brother had always had a love for plushies, and even as a baby his room was full of them. Of course, the two most important ones were both hanging over the sides of the crib. They were a pair, Fredbear and Spring Bonnie, made out of the softest felt and big button eyes. Their father had sewn them himself, when he had found out their mother was pregnant again, not that she stayed around long enough to raise said child. Those plushies had gone to Elizabeth first, after Cassidy had died, and then to Michael. He had kept them close. They had burned with him in the end, wrapped in a cheap 24-hour grocery bag in the bottom of his hole-ridden bookbag. How funny, that those two dolls had lived longer than his entire family, himself included. Part of him wanted to tear the dolls to shreds, just so that could never happen again.

There was something leaking from his eye. That was odd, there shouldn’t have been any oil in his body at this point in time, the metal parts and wires left behind in the future as time unwound itself to bring him back here, back home. 

He was sitting on the floor now, with the plush bunny twisted in his too small, too chubby fists. It was even harder to look at than the bear, reminding him of those horrible nightmares, trapped in his brother’s body, barely surviving against the conjured horrors of his guilt.

Just as he heard the first seam pop, he also heard footsteps. Oh, was Cassie still crying? He knew the footsteps had to be his father’s, too heavy for a child and his mother long dead, but somehow, in his brain, it just couldn’t click. The footsteps sounded too wrong, all flesh and soft and no screeching or whirring of metal, no groans of pain. But then, this wasn’t the future, and the man approaching the nursery wasn’t Springtrap, it was William Afton. 

Even so, Michael began to feel his heart race, he needed a place to hide. The closet was the best choice, even if the irony wasn’t lost on him. He left the plush on the ground, and crawled his way into the baby closet, closing those white, shuttered doors until only a thin line of light covered his form.

He waited, and, sure enough, his father walked into the room, looking much like he would rather be sleeping, or even doing anything else. He paused in front of the crib, picking up the forgotten toy, and placing it back next to its partner. Seeing his father standing over Cassie’s crib filled Michael with a sudden rush and hatred and anger. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to bust out of the closet and keep that horrid, horrid monster away from his baby brother.

But then, Father wasn’t a monster, at least, not yet. And perhaps he would never be, if Michael played his cards just right. If Cassie and Lizzy never died, would his father still have fallen like he did? Was William Afton destined to be a killer? And if he was, then what of Michael himself? He wasn’t sure.

As Michael watched his father comfort his brother, he began to contemplate. Did his father even deserve to be saved? Or were his actions so despicable that he was destined to Hell for every iteration? But then, if Michael could be saved, was there a small chance that perhaps… But then, did his father even want to be saved? Springtrap never did, but then, this man in front of him was not him. And that was what it boiled down to. The man in front of him both was and was not his father. Not yet guilty, but never truly innocent. With a start, Michael realized he could not decide, could never decide. He had always been stuck in that limbo, of loving his father and hating the man he was. If anything, all this had only made his emotions more complicated.

Michael sat there for a long while, waiting for his brother to fall asleep and his father to leave so that he could sneak out of his cramped hiding place. The tip of a shelf was biting at his lower back, reminding him uncomfortably of what it had been like, back when he was both man and machine, trapped in limbo with no control over his own movements. He was sure how long it was, waiting in that closet with only the monotonous sound of the grandfather clock in the hallway to keep him company. He supposed his sense of time was one thing not restored, a holdover, reminder even, of a time now gone in which he needed no sustenance, had no one around, and the only time he ever kept was in six hour intervals. Eventually, of course, little Cassie did settle. His father sat up, making Michael flinch at the sudden movement, and stretched out his back with a groan before stumbling off to bed. Michael, so much more used to slamming doors on animatronics than being a child hiding from a parent, counted to thirty before creaking open the closet door and crawling out of the room.

Michael’s original plan was, of course, to sneak his way back into his room. That plan came to a halt when he felt a tug on the back of his nightshirt. 

Fearing the worst, Michael swung himself around to face his foe, only to come face-to-face with a toddler. Was that… Lizzy? Had it truly been so long that seeing her face, her real face, only created confusion? And how terrible was that, that the only body he could recognize his little sister in was the seven foot tall monster that murdered her. But in front of him was not a killer animatronic, but a tiny girl with big green eyes and a glass of water.

“Mikey?” God, how those eyes made his heart wrench. Those big, innocent eyes, so full of trust. Trust in the world, trust in their father, trust in _him._ Could he ever live up to those eyes, be the person that Lizzy had always thought he was, even after he became a murder, even after he killed their baby brother? Or was he truly destined to fail, and this was all some sort of sick joke Cassidy had come up with to torture him for what he had done?

“Mikey, what’s wrong? Did you see a monster? That’s okay, I do too sometimes.” Lizzy was grabbing onto his arm now. It was by no means gentle, but his brain couldn’t help but think of how weak it was, how easy it would be to break out of and run, unlike the monster that she had been in the future. Would be? “I know! Daddy already checked for monsters in my room and said it was safe. Why doesn’t Mikey come sleep with me?” She had phrased it like a question, but the sharp tugs on his arm made it clear that it was more of a demand. Typical Lizzy.

Michael’s brain was elsewhere as he let Elizabeth all but drag him to her room, tucking him in with one of her stuffed animals. A fox, how ironic. 

“Don’t worry Mikey, I can fight off any monsters coming for you!” Lizzy pulled her fluffiest duvet over the both of them, patting him rather roughly on the head before turning around and going to sleep. But Michael’s brain was elsewhere, thinking back on all that had happened in the past few hours, and what his plan of action would be.

The realization came to Michael with a start. He could not kill his father. Not for the monster’s sake, no, but for Lizzy and Cassie, with their innocent eyes that still looked up to and loved their father with their whole hearts. But almost as if she could hear his thoughts in her sleep, Lizzy chose that exact moment to turn and kick him in the shins with her tiny, chubby little feet. It hurt like a bitch. Michael decided that that was as good a sign as any to stop thinking and try to get some sleep. It came rather easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do comment what you prefer: Shorter chapters more often, or more infrequent, longer chapters.


End file.
